


Faded Ink

by pristinecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Canon, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pristinecas/pseuds/pristinecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has a strange habit of touching the anti-possession tattoo. Dean doesn't like the anti-possession tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faded Ink

Castiel has a lot of quirks. Most of them Dean loves, with the grand exceptions of his habits of leaving his toothbrush on the counter and hogging blankets. But perhaps the oddest thing arose around the one-month marker of their getting together. 

Dean had gotten the tattoo what felt like ages ago, even before Castiel pulled him from hell. The anti-possession tattoo was a part of him, a part of the insane business they called life. The dark ink had long since faded, the edges growing soft and worn with time, the stark black greening. It was perhaps a symbol of his great sacrifice, of the work they’d done, but was also a constant, inescapable reminder of what was out there. It was a reminder that there were evil sons of bitches always waiting to get the jump on you when you turned your back. It was a reminder that those same creatures were the reason that his angel wasn’t an angel. 

Dean hated the tattoo.

~~~~~

 The first time it happened was late at night, lying on top of cum soaked sheets, Cas in Dean’s arms, their legs tangled together. Dean was thoroughly fucked out, on the verge of slipping into a well needed sleep, Cas’s breath soft on his neck. The only discomfort was the beginnings of a sore ass, which was appropriate, considering the fact that it had just been pounded into by five feet and eleven inches of pure muscle and very human emotion. Now, the same man was sighing gently into his skin, nuzzling closer as he buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, nestling into his warmth. Dean felt himself dozing off, comfortable next to Cas, heat and sweat acting as a blanket over them. 

He felt Cas’s arm move from its place draped over his stomach, so that it was bent at the elbow, Cas’s hand over his heart, and over the black pentagram. He shivered as a thumb stroked the ink there, brushing over the stained skin, caressing it gently. Dean frowned at the specific attention paid to the tattoo. None of his previous partners had ever really noticed it, and if they had they never cared. They probably were content to ignore some satanic-looking symbol if it meant a good lay. But here was the ex-angel, repeatedly grazing over it.

Dean smiled to himself as he drifted off, content and happy. 

 ~~~~~

 The second time it happened was while the two of them were watching whatever was broadcasting on daytime television, sunlight coming through the windows of whatever motel they had checked into. They’d left Lebanon early that morning, before the sun even rose, determined to get to the coast within three days. Dean’d wanted to go to a beach, and so they packed their bags and loaded the Impala.

Now they were collapsed on the bed of their double room – the price of which had been a ridiculous wad of cash and a dirty look from the conservative manager –  and they were again wrapped in each other’s arms. The soap opera that flickered across the cheap screen was ignored as Cas tilted his head up to look at Dean, pressing his lips to his jaw. Dean cupped Cas’s face with the hand that wasn’t around his waist, kissing him fervently, the smell of Cas’s sweet shampoo in the air between them.

Cas was wearing a hoodie he’d taken from Dean’s closet, coupled with an uncharacteristic pair of jeans, which Dean also suspected weren’t his own. Though to criticize this would be hypocritical, because Dean’s own shirt didn’t technically belong to him, either. He’d pulled the v-neck out of Sam’s things, even though the Sasquatch was a thousand times bigger than he was. The collar of the shirt hung low on him, exposing much of his collarbone and chest.

The tattoo was plenty visible too. At least half of it was shown by the revealing neckline, no matter how he shifted his body. As he continued to kiss his boyfriend, Cas’s hand moved to his chest, fingers tracing the star there, outlining it with his fingertips. Dean’s eyebrows creased slightly. He still didn’t understand Cas’s newfound obsession with the symbol, though he wasn’t about to stop him. Even if he would deny it for his entire life, he felt worth it for just a second. 

He kissed Cas with everything he had. 

~~~~~

The third time it happened, they were in the bathtub. It was a strange new sensation, Dean thought, as he rested with his back against the cool porcelain of the tub, Cas curled between his legs, the two of them surrounded by water that had cooled significantly since they’d gotten into it nearly an hour ago. They were too comfortable to move, Cas’s head on Dean’s chest, Dean’s arms around Cas, their knees protruding ever so slightly from the water’s surface. 

They had talked for nearly an hour, but they lay in silence now, having exhausted their supply of conversation topics. The scent of Cas’s shampoo lingered in the air, and Dean reached a hand up to run his fingers through the coarse black hair. Cas practically _purred,_ his own hand on Dean’s chest, where he began to drag his fingertips over faded ink. Cas nuzzled into Dean’s skin, clearly content as he closed his eyes. Dean chuckled softly, the corners of Cas’s mouth turning up in a happy little smile. Dean cleared his throat before he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Hey, Cas, not that I’m complaining or anything, but what’s with the tattoo fetish?” His tone was joking, but the eyes that looked up at him were wide.

“I can stop,” he said, voice impossibly deeper with the drowsiness that had threatened to overcome both of them. 

Dean shook his head, continuing to stroke his head like he was some kind of overgrown kitten. And with the big blue eyes he was looking up at him with, he kind of was. 

“No, baby, it’s good,” Dean reassured, and Cas’s hand, which had come to a halt, resumed its caress, though Cas continued to look up at him. “Just wondering why you do it, that’s all.” Cas squinted, apparently deep in thought, and Dean’s heart swelled. The Squinty Eye Thing – as they’d taken the liberty of naming it – was one of the most endearing things he’d seen the man do, as an angel and a human.

“I suppose...” Cas began, before pausing again to think. “I suppose it serves as a reminder of the work you’ve done, and that’s a pleasant reminder, and therefore I take comfort in it.” Dean snorted.

“Yeah, it’s a reminder, but I wouldn’t use pleasant,” he huffed, and Cas sat up a little straighter against him.

“What do you mean?”

Dean sighed, shaking his head gently.

“I’ve done shit, Cas. Bad shit. To Sam, to you, to everyone I love. I hurt you so many times, and none of it was your fault. Everything that’s happened has been nobody’s fault but mine. And having a symbol to represent all of that stuff constantly with me....” But he didn’t get to finish, because Cas sat up straight, leaving Dean feeling strangely cold without the contact of skin against skin. 

Cas’s face bore a sort of ferocity that he hadn’t seen since his seraph days, when he would place his palm on the forehead of some unsuspecting demon and smite them until the room glowed with the light of their extinguishing life. Now here they were, his gaze usually reserved for affection and love now offering a biting glare.

“Do not say that, Dean,” he ordered, not breaking eye contact once. Dean gulped, trying fruitlessly to decipher the expression on his boyfriend’s face. He was clearly livid, but hell if Dean knew why. Before he could ask what he’d said, Cas continued. 

“You are the bravest man I know,” Cas told him, pressing a finger to Dean’s lips before he could even open his mouth to retort. “You have saved countless lives, including my own. You have influenced so many people, Dean Winchester, in such amazing ways. Do not say otherwise. Do not demean yourself. And this,” Cas’s voice dropped to a whisper, as he put his hand over Dean’s heart and the tattoo, “this is a reminder of all the _good_ you have done.”

Dean could feel the tears building before they fell, overcome by emotion, reaching a hand up to cup Cas’s jaw before pulling him in for a kiss. It was messy, all teeth, tongue, and tears. The position-compromising bathtub created a need for Cas to straddle Dean, though neither one of them was complaining. They didn’t need to talk for the rest of the evening, instead speaking through gentle kisses and sighs, as they held each other and murmured praise against the other's skin.

Dean decided he loved the tattoo.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr at pristinecas.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks to thedamwriter for beta-ing!


End file.
